


Becoming (Kings AU)

by SimplySyra



Series: Blood on Gold Kings [11]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Achievement Hunters, Alternate Universe - Achievement Hunter Kings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-13
Updated: 2014-12-13
Packaged: 2018-03-01 08:03:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2765723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SimplySyra/pseuds/SimplySyra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They call the Mad King "heartless" for many reasons.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Becoming (Kings AU)

He met the beast on misted plains with the dust of dying fauna ground beneath his feet and the endless night wheeling above his head. The creature rose from the dark beyond the edge of the world where it had hidden for eons, horns withering the sky, blackened hooves pounding out the war-drum beat of utter annihilation.

"Hello, little kingling," whispered the beast in a voice that made the very stars flicker and tremble. "I am your fate."

The dark figure hesitated, golden crown glinting in the dark. Then slowly, deliberately, he raised his arm and beckoned the beast with a single finger.

The monster charged with a roar like a dying star, breath shattering the air into a million frosted shards. It was met by an unyielding blade held firm by powerful hands. The king grit his teeth, as the ground beneath him crumbled at the fury of the beast, cracks scattering out from under him like ripples in a pond.

"Mine," it shrieked, twisting its enormous head, a single scarred horn easily shearing through the king’s armor and plunging deep between his ribs.

"Poor beast," choked the other even as the blood bubbled up inside his lungs. "You are sorely mistaken."

His sword hissed death as it leapt into the beast’s throat, drawing forth not blood but shadows that screamed and slithered down the blade, staining it to a creeping, lightless black. Legs buckling, eyes rolling, the creature collapsed to the ground where it twitched and snorted.

The king groaned, gripped his sword in both hands, and set it to the horn piercing his heart. With a mighty swing, he cleaved it from the creature’s head.

"You shall be mine," he gasped. "I shall own you, and I shall be known throughout the land as your keeper and your conqueror."

They found him staggering in circles outside of the city gates, dragging his sword in one hand and his bloodied broken trophy in the other.

When the beast gored him, they said that he would die. No man, they said, could survive like that. No man could live with a heart torn out.

But he did not die.

He persisted despite the fear and disbelief of the palace healers, caught in the throes of a wild fever that ravaged his body and threw blood upon the walls. The echoes of his delirious screams rang throughout the castle, summoning waking nightmares and ghastly hallucinations into the minds of those seeking vainly for sleep.

When dawn finally broke, the king was seen to appear at the door of his chambers, drenched in sweat and blood, crown askew but planted firmly on his head. They say that when he looked into the mirror and saw the wretched hole where his heart had been, he threw his head back and laughed.


End file.
